More Than Magic
by EternityIsNow
Summary: The days and weeks went by, and more than Belle's relationship with her master changed. She wanted to pry him open and see what secrets he was keeping, but she knew that she needed to wait him out, to give him time, to let him set the pace. Whatever her master's reason for his uncertainty was, she was determined to overcome it, no matter what...
1. Twinkling Eye

_A/N: And I'm back! I have decided to start posting these One-Shots under the same story entry, as to avoid bombarding the Once Upon a Time archive. I have a few written out, and am still writing even more, so I'll be posting one every day or two until I run out of them. Enjoy, everyone!_

**Disclaimer: Once Upon a Time belongs to people far more amazing than me. 'Tis the sad truth, dearies.**

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Belle's entire life had been spent in her father's castle. Her only glimpses into the wide world were her trips to Gaston's estate, yet, even in these, she was escorted there and back with a strict schedule and no time for exploring. She had always longed to see the world and its beauty. She longed to travel far from Avonlea and its clutches. There was a wide world out there with breathtaking views and sprawling landscapes, and they were beckoning her with all their might.

But she was now in the Dark Castle.

She couldn't say she exactly _minded _it, especially now as her _master_ was more of a _friend_. He still required much of her, yes, but he did it much more politely. He would talk to her as she dusted, sit in the library with her as she read, and even allowed her the occasional day off to simply _explore_… as long as she didn't leave the castle grounds.

It was a step in the right direction, yet still far from what she longed for.

The days and weeks went by, and more than her relationship with her master changed. The green leaves turned red, orange, and brown before simply leaving their posts. The Robins, Bluebirds, and Meadowlarks abandoned their nests once more, seeking shelter in climates far more forgiving. The days grew shorter as the moon gained the advantage in the ever-turning battle up in the star-shrouded sky. Her attire became thickened and layered as the rain turned to snow and the dew on the grass turned to frost.

Belle had always loved this time of year. Snow was something rarely seen in the marsh-covered lands of Avonlea, and even when it did come, it never stayed. The gentle flakes brought a twinkle in her eye that nothing else could. It inspired happiness and peace in her, no matter what turmoil was stirring in her heart. It was a source of peace that only nature could provide.

And so when the beauty peered out of the window next to her silken-sheeted bed and saw the small white dots coasting down from a cloud-covered sky, all thoughts of dusting and sweeping instantly vanished. The only notion in her entire mind was to run through the castle grounds, arms outstretched, and enjoy this gift from Mother Nature.

She raced to her closet, snatched her red and white fur coat, and ran out her door, making for the grand hall. A large staircase lay out before her, yet it barely slowed her down as she pressed on, occasionally taking two stairs at a time. Bursting through the large oak doors, she paused only to catch her panting breath.

As she stood there, however, she saw something far out of the ordinary. Rumpelstiltskin sat at the far end of the long table, his head bent down as he stared at something intently. Something sat in his left hand, but she couldn't quite see what it was from this far away. Whatever he was up to, it apparently had completely wrapped his attention, as he made no sign of acknowledgment to her presence.

_The snow will have to wait_, she thought determinedly as she took a few cautionary steps toward him, her eyes ever on the larger object in his hands. Her curiosity grew with every step she took. She could still not make out what exactly it was, but it seemed to be a golden ball of some sort. The smaller object, she assumed, was a screwdriver, if the way he turned it was any indication. What he was doing, however, was still a mystery to her.

One she was determined to uncover.

Even with her being a mere meter from his perch at the table, Belle still had no idea what the object's purpose was. It was a golden egg with ornately carved images spread throughout it. Two single screws were visible from her vantage point, and her master was intently turning them tight. Every so many moments, he would roll the object around in his hands, seemingly testing it for—_something_, before resuming his mundane task.

Belle was captivated.

"It's a canister, dear." The distracted voice made Belle jump as her eyes lifted to her master's face. He didn't even look up at her as he once more rolled the object in his hands, his eyebrows knit in concentration.

Belle bit her lip in passive thought, linking her fingers before her. The information was helpful, but certainly not all-revealing. _What is he going to put in it? Why is he fixing it without magic? Where did he get it?_ These questions, and so many more, enthralled her, dulling the serene weather's significance in comparison.

"What's it for?" was her first question as she neared the table. She rested her arms across it, leaning even closer to the strange, golden container.

Rumpelstiltskin's eyes took on a dark expression; one Belle had come to know. He was plotting something, and it was something important. "It is going to bring me one step closer to my dream, and everyone else leagues away from their own."

Belle frowned at this, both from fear and uncertainty. Her master always spoke in riddles, of this she was used to, but there was something about this one. It seemed different, and she wasn't sure she liked it.

"What's your dream?"

The Dark One let loose a tittering giggle, setting the golden trinket down on the polished table. He waved the screwdriver at her playfully, a sardonic smile gracing his features. "Well wouldn't _you_ like to know? The rule still stands, dearie: if you tell someone your deepest wishes, they will never come true."

Belle laughed before shaking her head. "That rule only applies to wishes made on candles or stars."

He paused as his expression grew solemn. A frown surfaced as he looked down at the tool in his clawed fingers. The high-pitched façade crumbled to pieces as he looked up at her once more. "Trust me, Belle: I've wished on countless stars for this dream to come true."

The caretaker was stunned. She had never—_never_ heard her master call her by name. The moniker was always 'Dearie' or 'Dear', and the latter only when he was in an unusually happy mood or completely distracted. Now, he was baring part of his soul, and he had uttered her name.

What was worse was this: she loved the way he said it. His voice, when he wasn't putting up his normal, tittering front, was something that made her melt. She felt a blush creep upon her cheeks before she forced it down, remembering the situation at hand.

"Do—do you want to talk about it?" she timidly asked. She wanted to pry him open and see what secrets he was obviously keeping, but she knew to do so would be foolish. She needed to wait him out, to give him time, to let him set the pace. It was torture, but she knew it was the only way.

He shook his head stoutly, looking at her with resolve, yet also with regret. She could tell he wanted nothing more than to open up, yet she also knew that, for some reason, he couldn't. She didn't know whether it was for his safety, or for hers, yet she hated whatever the reason was. Whatever it was, she was determined to overcome it, no matter what. "Why—why don't you go out and enjoy the weather, dearie? It's the first snow of the year, quite the occasion in most towns," he suggested. His expression showed disinterest, yet his eyes displayed sorrow.

He was broken. Of this, Belle was certain.

"Only if you come with me," came Belle's reply.

The Dark One chuckled, the sorrow softening from his eyes. It was still there, and it still held him, but it was faltering. A small graced Belle as she held out her hand to him. She was positive she could beat this reason of her master's insecurity, and she would start now.

"I'm afraid I'm not one for frolicking in the snow."

Belle glared playfully at him before waving her outstretched hand once. "_Everyone_ loves to play in the snow, Rumplestiltskin. Now come on! It's time for you to leave this castle without the intent of causing havoc, for once."

Rumplestiltskin hesitated only a moment before taking his hand in hers. He relished the feel of her skin against his, but it was gone far too soon. Belle let go of his hand to readjust her cloak, before impatiently ushering him toward the large castle doors.

He snapped his fingers. Immediately, the doors opened, and the snow-veiled grounds opened before them, the sunlight reflecting off of the powder stinging his reptilian eyes. Blinking the pain away, he shielded his eyes with his scale-like hand, looking over at his caretaker with disinterest. "I don't know how you talk me into these things, Belle."

A smile escaped her grasp as she heard her name in his thick accent once more.

It seemed something other than snow could bring a twinkle to Belle's eyes.

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_Big thanks to Believer2010 for looking this one over for me! :D_


	2. Particular Treasure

_A/N: And here is One-Shot number two! I hope you all continue to enjoy these!_

**Disclaimer: If Once Upon a Time were mine, Graham wouldn't have died in Episode 8. #'Nuffsaid**

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Lacey lazily flipped the cool, crisp pages of the aged book, taking in the words like a desert-wanderer does water. Despite her constantly roaming the aisles of the public library, she had yet to read this tale, this story of a lost child, of ill-gotten magic, and of blooming romance. She was captivated by this version of a tale everyone knew. It was far different than the movie she watched growing up, or even the fairytale she had only read once or twice. It was far different, yet she was sure it was the closest this story had come to being realistic.

She glanced up from the enrapturing volume to gaze at the large grandfather clock resting against the far wall, its hands ticking languidly. She readjusted the book in her lap before returning to the fantastical land. _Just ten more minutes_, she assured herself, flipping the page once more.

The ten minutes passed, and afterward, another twenty. The beauty had just been told that True Love's Kiss could save her beast from his wretched magic, when a throat being cleared brought Lacey out of her magical world. She looked up with a start to see her boss standing before her, his arms crossed and his cane resting against his knee. His eyes held something between amusement and annoyance, and she was desperately hoping it was more of the former.

"Mister Gold! I—uh—how long have you been standing there?" she meekly asked, shutting the book with a guilty frown on her face.

His hand reached down for his golden-tipped cane as he rounded the counter and headed toward the back room. "Long enough, dear. So tell me: what fantastical world did you engulf yourself in today?"

Lacey hopped out of her chair behind the counter and followed him in, the book nestled safely against her chest. "_More Than Magic_," Lacey began, "It combines _Rumpelstiltskin_ with _Beauty_ _and_ _the_ _Beast_."

The shopkeeper lifted his eyebrow in skepticism before turning back to face his desk. "That sounds like quite the collaboration," he distractedly commented, rummaging through various papers.

Lacey let out a small giggle before setting the book down on a nearby stand. "What are you looking for? I might be able to help."

Mister Gold didn't even look up from the desk before answering, his hands continuing to sift through the documents. "Mayor Mills asked me for a rather…_ particular_ treasure, and I know I have the papers around here somewhere. I just can't seem to—"

He paused when Lacey put her hand up, motioning for him to stop. He watched as she determinedly strode across the back-office, opened up a random dresser drawer nestled against the wall, and pulled out the manila folder he had been searching for in his home-office for the past forty-five minutes. "You mean _this_ folder?" she asked, a small smirk playing upon her lips.

Mister Gold slowly took the folder from her hands, a mixture of relief of finding it, anger of her moving it, and gratefulness that she kept his life in some manner of order flooding through him. His employee always managed to inadvertently complicate his life, and for some reason, he never seemed to mind.

"Thank you, dear. Next time, please tell me when you sort my papers around, though. Will you?"

Lacey nodded obediently, her smirk never faltering. "Right. Sorry about that. So what're these papers for, anyway?" She hopped up and sat on his desk, dangling her legs carelessly. Her eyes caught glanced of a small pen on his desk, and she picked it up, fingering it absentmindedly.

Mister Gold paused a moment, taking in the sight of his employee. She flipped her head, making her chestnut locks settle in their natural point. A small sliver of light fell through a crack in the window, setting her hair alight. The halo effect made all thoughts in his mind vanish, being consumed by his Lacey. She was truly a beauty, one he knew he could never have, yet one he was too stubborn to let go.

"Mister Gold… are you there?" she asked, bending her head low so she could peer straight into his eyes. A playful giggle escaped her grasp as she saw him fumble for words. Her boss was quite the strange man, yet she always found it engaging. The way he would stare at her always brought warmth to her cheeks. The way he would talk to her for hours about everything and yet nothing always brought a smile to her face. The way he would go above and beyond just to make her life easier always made her heart swell. He was a lonely man trying to fill his heart, and she was anything but unwilling to give him a chance.

"I—I believe it's time for your break, isn't it?" he asked, rolling up his suit-coat sleeve to peer at his golden watch. "Two-thirty on the dot, dear. Why don't you go fetch us something to drink from the diner, and I'll bring you up to date. Sound fair?"

Lacey nodded once, sliding off the table and straightening out her blouse. "I'm on it, _boss_," she added teasingly, giving him a bright smile. With that, she took off for the diner, leaving Mister Gold alone in the back room.

When he heard the light bells chime with the closing of the front door, he let loose a breath he hadn't realized he had been holding. Opening the manila folder in his hand, he lifted up a paper to view the one under it: _'Boston Child Services Entry 28379: Emma Swan. Age: 18. Gender of Child: Male_.'

He looked over at the curtain still swaying from her exit. "Ten more years, Belle. Just _ten more years._"

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_A big thanks to myself for looking this one over for me (my betas temporarily abandoned me on this one :P)!_


	3. Butterflies

_A/N: So here is One-Shot number three! This is Storybrooke too, as my muse for Enchanted Forest One-Shots come and go with the days. I hope you continue to like these! Don't forget to follow the story, as these One-Shots are far from over, dearies!_

**Disclaimer: If the owners of Once Upon a Time happened to come across this… wouldn't they be smart enough to realize I'm posting it on a website named "fanfiction"? I don't see the logical point behind these things…**

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Mister Gold stood in the doorway, watching his employee from across the backroom of the pawnshop. She was sitting on her heels, making the hem of her navy blue, flowered-patterned skirt brush the floor. Her eyes darted to and fro across the low shelf, while her fingers brushed across the spines of the countless books. She bit her lip in concentration before moving on to the shelf above it, slightly leaning her head back to get a more comfortable view.

She tucked the curls of her auburn hair behind her left ear before continuing, her ever-ready patience bidding her to press on. Mister Gold was amazed by how readily she took on challenges such as these. He had never seen such persistence, not even in himself.

"Found it!" Lacey cried, pulling a singular volume out from amongst the hundreds lining the walls. She stood up with a small huff before taking the few, small steps toward her boss. "_Once Upon a Time_ by—" the employee paused, flipping back through the first few pages once more. Her eyes scanned every line of the title page before her eyebrows knitted in confusion. "There's no author, publication, or even copyright date!" she declared, handing her employer the volume, her free hand gesturing wildly to the bare opening page.

Mister Gold took the book from her, reading the title page with distant intrigue. He looked up at her with a knowing expression. "It's a _very_ old book, dear. Back when this was written, they were more concerned with the story than with who made it."

Lacey frowned down at the book, tilting her head in intrigue. "So when was it written?" she asked, standing right next to him so she could peer over his forearm at the volume's gold-scripted cover.

For a small moment, Mister Gold let his mind return to the Enchanted Forest in order to retrieve the memory. He remembered sitting for long hours in the Dark Castle, using the power he gained from the Seer to gaze upon the future. He remembered writing story after story, penning in the parts of the future that were anything but changeable. He remembered the pain and agony of writing his own story, of remembering all that he had done, of all that he had lost. He remembered the tears splashing on the pages while magically forging the illustration of his only son, his tainted heart splitting in two once more.

"It was written in the darkest time and forged by the vilest hands. It is a time and story best left forgotten, dear. These stories are the only thing that survived a particularly gruesome battle." His hands were shaking as he grasped the book. He had come too far to return to those memories. He had his Belle, and he was a mere nine years from finding his Bae. _'Just relax, Rumpelstiltskin. It's over'_ he told himself. He closed his eyes and dropped his right hand to his side, clenching it in a fist. His fingernails dug crescents into his palm, the pain seeming to clear the dark fog in his mind.

A soft, prying brush against his clenched hand brought him back to reality with a start. He looked down to see a soft, elegant hand gripping his own. He followed it up to meet his Belle's swirling blue eyes, peering at him concernedly. "Are you okay?" was her simple interrogation.

_Are you okay_: three simple words that held a multitude of answers for Mister Gold. He was anything but '_okay'_ in all honesty. Mister Gold and Rumpelstiltskin constantly battled for the control of his mind, the weight of the curse being broken continuously clawed at him, and the blasted curse took away all of one type of responsibility just to replace it with a whole different kind. He was an aged man in this world, and his fretting was doing anything but helping his nerves.

But Lacey (_his Belle_) didn't need to know this. She was the only thing keeping him sane, and she didn't even know it. He needed this to remain constant. She was the anchor, keeping him steeled against the crashing waves. "I'll be alright, dear. Now, where were we?" he asked, giving her his best smile.

Lacey looked down at their entwined hands, biting her lip in indecision. She had never held his hand before, yet it felt so…_ natural_. She felt butterflies, but they weren't from anxiety or giddiness, they were the kind of butterflies that—

That you had from pure joy.

They were the kind of butterflies that you had on Christmas morning as a young child. They were the kind of butterflies that you had on the first day of summer. They were the kind of butterflies that you had when you held hands with the person that you had loved for your whole life.

Why, then, was Lacey feeling them now?

"Dear, now are _you_ okay?"

Lacey jumped before looking at the floor with a guilty smile. A faint blush was rising before she managed to tackle it down. She took a deep, preparing breath before meeting her employer's piercing gaze. "Lost in thought," she mumbled, that ever persistent blush threatening to rise once more.

Mister Gold grew a smirk, knowing quite well what was happening. His Belle had never been one for hiding her feelings well. She felt _something_ while holding his hand, and she was trying to figure it out. "I noticed. Now why don't we go get this book cleaned up before Mary Margaret comes to pick it up, shall we?"

Lacey nodding quickly, being more than willing to escape the sight of Mister Gold before the blush returned. She reached up and took the book from Mister Gold before starting toward the front of the shop.

Gold watched her go with a distant smile. Nine years. She had nine years to figure it out, and he was more than willing to give her that time. Nine years, and she would wake up. Nine years, and the savior would enter Storybrooke. No matter what happened until that point, he would have her back then.

He wouldn't lose her this time...

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_Big thanks to myself for looking this one over for me (my betas still haven't returned…)!_


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